


Hopeless Wanderers

by InfiniteFreedom



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - World War I, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Soldiers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteFreedom/pseuds/InfiniteFreedom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who. Are you?" she growled and the girl did the goggle eyes thing again, before gulping. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm uh..I'm Root."</p><p>"Root?" Shaw repeated without much thought, "what kind of an idiot has a name like that?"</p><p>The girl - Root, narrowed her eyes offended. "What kind of an idiot attacks people in the woods and gives themselves a Kingdom?"</p><p>Or the childhood thing one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is angst and fluff and I'll see if I continue it.

The heat was stifling. Unsettling even. Seeing was nesrly impossible from the fluorescent light hitting her eyes but she would have to make do with it for now.

There was no sound, no rustle of winds to interrupt her focus. In this moment it was only her and her prey, at least three feet beneath her.

It seemed like even nature decided to take a pause, stop and hold its breath to witness the moment.

A sacred moment that was.

Sameen Shaw, the proud leader of Hopeless Wanderers, was going to capture the first hostage, the first impostor, and make a good example of them in her base of operations. 

No one dared to pass the limits to her territory, her line through the trees. The village could be what it wanted, but these were the woods, the forest, and it was a minefield, full of little traps ready to take down any one who dared to tress pass. 

And now, here finally after all this time, Sameen had a challenge, someone to take down, and she'd be damned if she needed any help from the petty holes covered by trees, and the thin ropes waiting to capture any idiot in a fish net.

She would prove herself worthy of being the King of Hopeless Wanderers, and this was her proof, her first task - well, even though it was in the form of a tiny brunette girl - walking like the fool she surely was through the tall trees.

Unsuspecting, naive. 

Shaw couldn't see much from this high up the tree she'd climbed, but she could distinct the careless way in which the girl - she assumed it was a girl - stepped on the grass and headed toward certain death.

Yes sir. Death. Sameen Shaw and her mighty Knights would not show any tolerance. 

Sameen counted seconds before the unknown threat passed an invisible point, one that Shaw had made mental note of.

Now. Now was the time to shine.

 

With incredible agility, and practiced velocity, she let go of the branches she had been holding herself up with for more than five minutes, and landed on her feet, on soft ground. 

Again, calculated. She had to be careful, and she wouldn't risk messing the whole operation up, with crunching leaves and heavy thumps. 

 

With a determination of a lion ready to pounce on the deer, she crouched and started taking long steps behind the impostor, whilst holding her sharpened stick close to her.

Her scraped knees and sore arms protested from the effort, but Sameen ignored them, besides, she'd done hundreds of more painful jobs before.

Like when Mama asked her to carry hay stacks out of the warehouse. 

They were heavy, and Sameen would have stopped if it wasn't for the black bags under Ilya Shaw's eyes. When Papa left, Sameen promised she'd take care of Mama until he came back. She didn't want to fail him.

Somewhere on the back of her mind she believed that he could watch over them, even from the army miles away.

Like he did when she was six years old, and stole Mama's jelly from the jar, and somehow he would know she did it without even being there. 

 

This was like a piece of Baker Fusco's apple pie.

 

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.

Cursing herself slightly she looked sharply up towards her target, in fear that perhaps the girl had heard her - but of course, that idiot was still moving like she owned the place.

Which she didn't. Sameen would make sure to point that out very clearly.

A devilish smirk took over her small features, as she thought over this certain success.

Oh how much fun she'd have rubbing this in John's face.

 

She kept the pace steady, just a few steps behind the girl, who still went on without a care in the world.

They'd almost reached the old oak tree before the stranger abruptly stopped and froze like a statue in the middle of rotten autumn leaves and singing birds.

 

Shaw had never felt more elated. Andrenaline pumped through her veins and for a moment she wondered if it was impossible for the other person to hear it.

 

Time for the prize. 

It was now or never, and Sameen wasted absolutely zero time in lunging at her from behind, taking - now definitely identified as a girl - her by surprise and holding the stick out in preparation. 

 

Only, she should have known. She really should have known. 

That nothing ever ran so smoothly.

She had miscalculated, allowed the impostor to wander too far in the forest, and now off they rolled, a tangled mess of scrapped, torn pants, dirty black t -shirts - Mama was going to kill her - sundresses and wild hair.

 

Sameen was doing barrel rolls with a squeaking…SOMEONE on top of her, down a very wide slope.

 

Ol' Greer's slope. 

Crap.

Every second that passed Shaw could feel an extra scratch on her bare arms, and more hair in her mouth. 

And the heck - was that...was that lavender?

What the f-

She landed on something very edgy that much she could tell by the searing pain on her back.

Oh good.

On the other hand, what was remotely NOT good, was the mouthful of hair currently choking her to death. 

Like Jesus, who had that much hair.

Get a haircut kid.

The someone, the lucky brat, had landed on soft surface, Shaw's body, and it was decidedly a very tall someone. 

 

A very very tall and spooked someone.

Sam didn't spend time in taking a better look, she instantly grabbed the opportunity, and turned them upside down, now pinning the girl to the ground with a sharp stick on her neck.

 

Also she ignored the tingling sensation of being off limits along her back.

This was not Hopeless Wanderers territory. 

But to hell with it.

She would finish the mission even if she had to jump down a cliff herself.

Some mud and faint line wasn't gonna get the better of her.

Shaw spit the hair she had almost swallowed down to the side before lowering down on the girl. 

Her tamgled hair were covering her face but Shaw could feel the erratic hearbeat on her chest.

At least she was afraid. It only fed Sameen's confidence, the heat barely registering now that she had grasped the feeling of pure, earned victory.

 

"Reveal yourself or you die." Shaw hissed with an ordering tone and of course the fool had to obey because Shaw was the King of the woods.

 

She was Sam Shaw the one and only -

The girl underneath her remained unmoving, unwilling - DISOBEYING, and Sameen's anger flared inside her chest at the defiant attitude.

She pressed the stick further in the girl's neck, until she could feel her Adam's apple against the hard wood, and before long the girl coughed.

 

"Okay, okay!" the trespasser's voice sounded for the first time, and it was thin, surprisingly sugary to Sameen's ears even in this state.

Shaw felt hands move from underneath her before she saw them, and she glared at them even though she knew the girl couldn't see her from the thick brown curtains in front of her eyes.

She tentatively brought them to those curtains seconds after, brushing them away with minus something speed - ugh, and Shaw only watched as the features slowly appeared.

 

Pale skin, streaked dirty by the ground, lightly haired, good shaped eyebrows. 

 

The girl had her eyes scrunched up as if in fear, and seconds passed before she cracked an eye open, like one of these stupid comic books John gave her, where the mouse was scared of the cat and kept doing the exact same thing.

She cracked an eye open and woah. 

Shaw felt her own gulp down her throat. That was some eye.

A honey brown, like Mama's cooking a cake kind of brown, or Mr. Fusco's caramelizing the chocolate brown, or freaking Shaw's favorite brown sort of brown.

 

Her orb seemed to dart anywhere and everywhere within a mili second, and Shaw was pretty much feeling like she had somehow lost control of the situation somehow and was just about to   
get a grip when -

 

Both eyes opened and her full face uncovered and - well shit.

Well defined cheekbones, intense irises, and red lips. 

If Shaw had to take a guess, this girl was probably a year younger than her. But Sameen knew this village like the back of her hand and she didn't recognize the stranger.

Big eyes were staring right back at Shaw's, pursed mouth, with the girl's hands resting awkwardly between both their chests.

Shaw might as well have been lightning struck at the time, because later she would pretty much deny that her throat had gone dry and any proud speech she MAYBE - could have possibly prepared in her treehouse an hour ago - was ready to give had now fairly lodged on the back of her brain.

The almost - goggle- eyed girl had hooked her eyes in Sameen's, like a witch that had put Shaw in a trance.

 

Okay so perhaps she was a witch. A very young, tall, annoyingly pretty faced witch, a fact which would perfectly explain why Sam wouldn't move right now.

 

Like maybe she should ask Mama about myths of witches later, because at this instant the fact that she couldn't get her head out of her ass was bordering on HORRIFYING and -

"Umm…" the yes - no - maybe so witch spoke and the King of Hopeless Wanderers definitely did not flinch, "…hi."

 

The simple word was like a ton of bricks hitting Sameen in the head - and who was that poor girl that thought she could address Shaw like a common peasant? 

It was outrageous! 

 

She pressed the stick harshly once more, pleased to find the girl's eyes widening - was that even possible? As in, how bigger could those eyes get man? - and snarled.  
"Who are you and why are you intruding my Kingdom?" she asked in a hollow, dark tone that could easily make most girls in her class piss their skirts.

 

The impostor however, only frowned and shook her head. "Intrud - Wait what?"

Shaw only got more frustrated at this uncooperative hostage, and she hoped it showed on her deadly glare. 

"Who. Are you?" she growled and the girl did the goggle eyes thing again, before gulping. 

 

"I'm uh..I'm Root."

"Root?" Shaw repeated without much thought, "what kind of an idiot has a name like that?"

The girl - Root, narrowed her eyes offended. "What kind of an idiot attacks people in the woods and gives themselves a Kingdom?" she asked in the same tone as Shaw, as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

When Shaw realized the implication, she almost gasped. 

How dared she? 

"I don't know who you think you are but if you think you're getting away with - "

"Are you literally threatening me with a wooden stick?"

Shaw was rudely interrupted and suddenly she felt like she might explode from the rage boiling her blood, because this Root was vehemently defying her. 

"I could end you with it - "

"What are you a five year old? Real kings have swords." Root interrupted, AGAIN, and she was really getting on Shaw's nerves now. "And Knights, with shining armors that protect them anytime."

Shaw scoffed, because this little girl was way too confident for her own good. 

"From who?" she asked and her voice took a mocking tone, "Little girls with sundresses? My Knights have more important matters to take care of."

Root smirked, and Shaw was surprisingly taken aback. "I can be dangerous."

Sameen raised an eyebrow despite herself, honestly she had no idea why she hadn't already pulled the girl from the hair back to her team, but she was quite curious to see how this would play out.

Perhaps it could play out very, very interestingly. 

After all Shaw could take this piece of meat down anytime with ease, just like Papa had taught her before he left for the army. 

Root's eyes unfocused above her shoulder all of a sudden, and Sameen found herself tracking the movement with her own much darker ones - which, she belatedly realized, was a huge mistake. 

 

Double crap.

Back on the hot hard ground was her black t - shirt, and Root's body towering on top of hers comfortably. 

Too comfortably if you asked Shaw. 

Sameen scowled and struggled to get loose, but Root only smiled in response before quickly pinning each of her wrists next to her head on the orange leaves. 

The dopey little smile was spreading like wildfire all over the - most definitely - witch's face, and Shaw - most definitely - because of a spell momentarily lost herself in pearly white teeth and cute wrinkles.

Then her standard annoyance took over. 

"You were saying?" said Root smugly and Sam's fist clenched under the hold. 

Her eyes grew flames. "Get off of me or I'll punch you in the face."

Root only didn't seem the least bit intimidated, on quite the contrary, she just looked more and more amused, if the tilt in her head and goofy grin was any indication. 

"You're no King to me." she stated in the end, voice dipped in a tone of...something, something deep and low, almost an octave down. Something Shaw had never heard before and it sent her gut on a butterfly hunt, the words ringing all over her head. 

Flabbergasted by the effect, Sameen managed to get angry enough to shove Root off of her, up and ready for a fight. 

The fool on the other hand raised slowly to her feet, straightening her not - so -clean blue sundress, and shaking her hair. 

Shaw almost grunted impatiently, on the verge of knocking the girl out and just dragging her back to the Hopeless Camp.   
Instead her mind backtracked as soon as she spotted moving figures from behind Root who was awfully smiley. 

She distinguished graceful movements and blonde hair and -

Martine. 

Shit. 

 

She had crossed the borders to her Kingdom and she was alone and as many persons as Shaw could take down, the number would never reach 6 at a time. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Mission failed. 

Abort mission. 

Shaw turned around abruptly, quickly climbing back up the slope she had come from, paying no attention to the fumbling brunette behind her. 

"Wait!" Root shouted but Sam kept going, "where are you going?"

Shaw rolled her eyes as she rushed to get to the top, back on her side of the forest.   
"Sorry Princess, places to be, Kingdoms to conquer."

No she did not, not mention Martine and her goons approaching on purpose. 

Root of course, decided to keep what she preferred. "Well thank you…"

If that was supposed to be a cue for Shaw to share her name then the latter did not take it. 

She got to the top just before Martine reached the bottom, with Root struggling to take the first few steps. 

Now she could leave. Shaw would leave and never see the girl again, possibly, saving her own ass and - why not? Root was a stranger after all , one who had insulted her at that. 

But Shaw was a King - and well, she wouldn't leave a person in need alone. 

Even if that particular person was someone who was grinning at her as though everything was about unicorns in this world. 

Ugh. 

"Come on." Shaw said decisively before gripping the girl's arm tightly and pulling her up. 

"Hey!" she heard from beneath and quickened the process.

Root's skin was soft underneath her fingertips and for a moment Shaw thought it might bruise. 

The notion that she actually cared, stuck her hard on her head, and in a second she was gone, running away like a coward, leaving a stranger that had gotten under her skin more than anyone had after her dad, standing alone and confused with a whisper melt away by the heat. 

"I don't even know your name…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go through with this.

"Sameen!"

 

Her mother's voice sounded like a horn in the middle of a quiet noon to her own ears, as she opened her eyes to the blinding morning light spilling through the grimy window of her room. 

 

Good morning world.

 

Begrudgingly Sameen slowly threw one leg over the bed, then the other, untangling herself from messy white sheets and scrawny clothes. If she didn't, her mother would barge into her room, and then there would have been some seriously big argument, concerning the fact that you can't sleep naked Sam and it's just not appropriate. 

 

Bla bla bla.

 

No matter how many times her Mama had warned her, Sam just buried herself under the cool covers and got rid of her gown in the process. Gown. As if. If it was up to her, all she'd be wearing were black shorts and black t - shirts. 

 

She stood up, dragging her feet to the dresser at the corner. The room was small but familiarly comfortable, with a plain bed that was at best not crumbling, and a window on the wall perpendicular to it. Paint was chipping off the walls at some spots, a creamy yellow spreading over all four of them. The whole house was narrow spaced, but at least not decaying, and barely dusty from neglect because Mama would always make sure to clean it.

 

Hours on her knees and palms, Sameen had spotted her on all fours, scrubbing the floors, using vinegar on the windows, and standing on ridiculously low chairs to reach the ceiling, rug in tow. Her father would usually help with that, rendering himself useful by his neck becoming a portable tall chair, for her mother's legs. It was funny and amusing, when Sameen only had to count seconds before they both tumbled to the ground from imbalance. 

 

Now that her Dad had left however, Ms. Shaw had been struggling more and more, with aching backs and sore hands, and so Sameen decided she could at least do her own room alone. Well, whenever she had the time that was. 

 

Their home wasn't much, Sameen had seen houses and mansions seemingly gigantic in front of their petite farmhouse, in John's TV, but perhaps she didn't care that much. It was warm and theirs and it would have to do. Situated at the end of a gravel road, it was out of the way of the hustle and bustle at the center of the village, with no oak trees and bushes behind it. They had a yard too, brown from the dirt and drought, filled with crazy chickens and all kinds of animals, as well as the wild stallion ; just a young horse, that her dad liked to believe would evolve into the fastest ride ever. 

 

Sameen thought about him again as she took out the dark blue dress they forced them to wear at school, and sighed, remembering his words crystal clear and loud as he hugged her goodbye. 

 

"Just a duty call Sam. There's no war here." He said, because their teachers had been talking about Europe and tourists and bombs in hushed tones at school, but Sam was not deaf.

 

It'd been almost a year ever since they heard about the ongoing war in Europe, starting off 1914 with no idea whatsoever about war, and ending the summer with many tourists never making it back home. In May 7, 1915, her dad lost three family friends, Mama lost a cousin, and Mr. Fusco lost one of his sons. Lusitania, burnt and sank in the sea and all they could do was hear the news from a crappy radio in Lionel's father's bakery. 

 

Since then, Sameen had hated the Germans just as much as all the elder did. Lionel was not her favorite company per se, but watching him cry his heart out as the name Ronald Fusco echoed hollowly over breads and cakes, was not a happy experience. Sam had no siblings, but she supposed that if she did, she wouldn't have liked them dead either. And of course apart from all the complaints and sorrow of Americans, by June, Mr. Shaw had to leave, reinforce the U.S Navy even though people did a good job in reassuring everyone that no, the U.S take part in no war. 

 

Bullshit, Sameen thought. Why ask for soldiers when they're not about to go d-

 

She shook out of her reverie when her Mama's slightly irritated voice resurfaced from below the plank - wooden floor :

 

"Sameen!"

 

Sam rolled her eyes and pulled over her dress, caring little about whether or not it looked like it'd been stomped by a horde of angry bulls. She'd never been one for appearances anyway. 10 years old and still free, she countered. 

 

Sam rushed down, paper ball in hand, to the assuring monotony of every day life. At the table near the kitchen, her mother placed the same porcelain plate - which looked like it had been used by at least three older generations of Shaws - with a piece of bread and butter, and a scrambled egg. At least they agreed to this ; Sameen loved food. 

 

Yes, her emotions didn't range very far, (she was 7, a rainy day in the woods and a bunch of squirrels lay dead amidst hundreds of fallen leaves. She showed them to her classmates and ended up punished by four different people because how can you not care about something so monstrous? She didn't answer and she slept fine during the night, and next morning when Joss and Zoe said they didn't, she was only mildly curious as to why), but food she could accommodate with butterflies in the stomach. Now that made sense. And not silly girls gawking at boys from the male school across the street, behind the fence.

 

"Morning Ma." She gurgled with lips dipped in butter and teeth chewing bread and eggs.

 

Ms. Shaw looked at her with the eyes of a shark - not that Shaw had ever seen one - ready to pounce at the slightest movement. She answered by slamming a glass of milk down on the wooden space in front of her. "All of it. And after that, off you go or you'll be late little Miss."

 

She scowled at the nickname but obeyed all the same, finishing up with her breakfast and quickly getting up to leave the house. The floorboards creaked beneath her sneakers, betraying the cottage's age once again. She liked it here. No endless sound of traffic and many nice smells, only bothered by the unsteady temperature. 

 

Stepping on a few sprouts of weed as the young girl ran across the path of her yard, she mentally noted that a chicken was missing. It took her minutes, rounding on the first right turn of the road, passing by Lionel's house - and his ugly donkey, then turning left towards their small pharmacy. Around the corner of the brick building, and straight ahead - it was all houses and shops after that. The center of the village - a church, was the best taken care of part of the place, with old men fussing over it all the time. And as usual, the priest was there to wave at her, as she made her way through crossroads and intertwining paths, til she reached the telltale sign Elementary School For Females at the end of a grassy road. These facilities (including the school for boys at her right) were well conserved as well, but as Sam drew in a heavily scented breath of hyacinth and freshly cut grass, she knew she'd rather be back home, with her haystacks and collection of feathers. 

 

Either way, she had no say in the matter as Zoe caught sight of her from inside the fence, proceeding to drag her inside, and make the choice for herself.

 

...

 

"Sameen."

 

She was half paying attention to Geography, half creating a paper cross bow, when someone decided to interrupt her calm, and whisper her birth name, somehow managing to make it even more hostile than the vaguely threatening loud tone her mother used in the morning. Her name entered her ear cold, mocking and blank, leaving behind only boiling blood.

 

She recognized the voice, behind her, a blonde girl was leaning over her desk to reach her she was certain. She'd be mad - a little impressed even, because Control was currently talking about Asia, and nobody ignored her. Besides Sam of course. Control ; they called her that because of that exact impeccable skill she had, gaining control in any, extreme or not situation. Give her a stick, and a pocket knife, and she could solve all problems - but her mind was preoccupied with sticking that last piece of tape to her makeshift barrel -

 

when a paper ball hits her on the back of her head.

 

Hesitation over Control's most probable punishment long gone, she turned around slowly, predatorily even, staring straight through another pair of angry browns, yet not the least beat intimidated by them. Martine had that, a useful ease at confronting people with just a look, which was exactly why she was Samaritan's leader. A carnivorous little beast, that reminded Shaw of herself - a fact that only served to fuel her anger even more. They were the same age, but the blonde was taller, seemed older than any of them.

 

"What?" Sam growled back, voice hushed, her gaze going back and forth between her Martine and her dangerous teacher. That was the disadvantage of your desk being in front of your sworn enemy's, you see. You couldn't try to beat them at a glaring contest without enduring long term consequences that include red marks on your palms, and hair pulled right out of your neck. Control really would always be as a matter of fact, in control.

 

Martine, that pretentious brat, dressed up like a ( Goddamn nightmare) doll, laid a hand on Sameen's elbow almost sweetly, and suddenly Sam was really, really struggling not to earn herself a whole week standing on one foot at the corner of their small class, after punching her oh so merry classmate in the face. Hard.

 

Instead, she settled for a good old fashioned threat :

 

"If you're looking for a deathwish," she started, fixing her eyes on the offending area, "keep that there."

 

A second and then the doll from hell, gathered her palm to herself. Martine batted her eyelashes innocently, and then outright grinned.

 

It didn't last long.

 

"Friday, Sam," her eyes scanned her periphery, "you crossed the limits...and then you stole a hostage from me."

 

Shaw only spared her glance before focusing on what Control was intently pointing out, turning her back to the blonde and paying her no attention. She could practically feel the anger emanating from the girl behind her. Ignorance is bless.

 

"Don't ignore me."

 

"Geography is a subject of great importance..." Sameen heard with great attention. 

 

She heard a grunt. "Sameen."

 

"...for to know how to use the ground and a location to your benefit will alw..."

 

There was radio silence, Sam counted three minutes, and thought that maybe, just maybe that imbecile decided it was no use to keep blabbering away. Besides, even if Sameen had absolutely the slightest interest in addressing the matter, she really wouldn't have had anything to say. She wasn't sure herself what the hell happened yesterday - not that she bothered to analyze things. Sam wanted to capture someone, made a small but consequential mistake, and in the end perhaps made another one, slightly bigger, but again - she didn't really care. 

 

Sameen hadn't seen that girl (Root was it?) ever since Friday, no long legs, or chestnut brown wavy hair, or goggle eyes anywhere in the village. Honestly, she didn't know whether she should be relieved or a little bemused, because that girl seemed exciting at least, an interesting hostage. Still, Sam really didn't do the friendship thing, and one girl with almond shaped eyes wasn't going to change that. Hell no. Better still, Sam didn't want to see her again anyway, she hoped the girl was just a tourist or something, a passer by.

 

She was happy to just sit here and let Martine fume, more now than ever resembling a blonde little girl whining to no one but herse -

 

"Are you a coward, Shaw?"

 

It was the way. The nerve. That demeaning, belittling intonation of her name, her father's last name, as if the world stopped spinning for that split second it took her enemy to curve her tongue behind her teeth and pronounce the name, a faux British accent mixing with the usual cold hostile tone ; Sameen had never felt angrier in her life.

 

She spun around, and even if the loud scraping of chair grinding on tile alerted Control of an ongoing movement, nobody could ever possibly be enough quick to prevent her clenched fist from meeting Martine Rousseau's annoyingly smug face.

 

"Shaw!" She heard a loud reprimand - but hey. At least this version of her name sounded better than the one last used.

 

...

 

If there was a God up there in the sky, like her Mama liked to believe, then He most definitely did not favour Sameen Shaw. 

 

Okay. She got it. Violence was bad. She should have managed her anger and instead attempt on initiating a civilized dialogue, or just paying attention to the freaking lesson in the first place. Yes, so things got a little out of hand. And yes, Martine now had a whole new bruise printed on her right eye - courtesy of Sam's (helpfully) unfortunately calloused knuckles. But did it have to be that day? Did Control have to change her tactics that particular day, under those particular circumstances? 

 

No she didn't.

 

Sameen was sure the Almighty had something to do with it, because otherwise, she wouldn't have been stuck on display in each and every younger class as THE example of inappropriate behavior. One more class and she'd be done for the day though, just this ungodly hour and then another one and she could leave, merrily run to the Hopeless Camp and resume being a worthy King.

 

Control eyed her cautiously as Sam walked sullenly ahead, heading towards the room the headmistress had pointed her to during break time. Hair picked up in a ponytail, Sameen at least figured she could hold onto that semblance of self choice.

 

Approaching the door, Sameen decided that maybe she could play around even a bit more, standing in front of the wood stubbornly, refusing to budge. There was a limit to how far she could push with Control, she knew, but she had a reputation to uphold, one that entailed at least twelve marks on her palm before begrudgingly obeying to her vigorous headmistress. The latter stopped short of her and shot her a menacing look.

 

Moments later, after Sameen liked to think she had stood her ground at a starting contest, Control finally cleared her throat and opened the door. It did not come as a surprise to Sameen that all girls were seated silently as she stepped inside, then simultaneously raised when Control entered the room. They are young, Sameen thought.

 

They will learn. 

 

Shaw spent no time scrutinizing the girls (on quite the contrary most of them were examining her from head to toe), and retreated to the far wall behind all desks, in a dark corner with only some shelves and a map for company. Geography haunted her everywhere it seemed. 

 

However Control, ever the stoic control freak, nodded at a chair next to the board in front of the students, and with one stern look, there Sam was, muttering curses under her breath and forcing her feet to walk all the way back to the front. 

 

She could hear snickers - safe to say ; she didn't appreciate them at all. 

 

"Good morning girls." Control's voice overpowered them all.

 

"Good morning headmistress!"

 

Sameen rolled her eyes at the choir, because of course by now they had turned to Control's puppets. She'd trained them well - Shaw would give her that. From the moment the woman talked, no stray eyes or chanced glances were thrown at her way, afraid as they were that Control would punish them.

 

Sam snorted. It earned her a glare.

 

"As you can see," the offending woman started, "we have a guest."

 

Sam snorted again. 

 

This time she took a smack to the head. The girl glanced across at her teacher, standing tall and challenging. She noted that supercilious, almost arrogant, cast of harsh eyes, a ferocious glint, while the girls laughed silently at her, and perhaps that was the sort of conceit which Shaw found the least endearing about this headmistress ; worse even than her meanness and incompetence. And suddenly she shuddered with distaste. 

 

"Collins!" She ordered and Shaw got a glimpse of a tiny girl rising from her seat on the front row. The girl looked anxious, her throat nervously bobbing and her eyes anywhere but on Control. 

 

"Yes ma'am?"

 

"What did you have to learn for the day?"

 

The girl was sweating, and Shaw would have felt a little pity if it wasn't for earlier, her mind replaying the snickers and she was certain this student laughed too.

 

"We - we had to study a text ma'am." She stammered, lifting tentatively her green board and pointing at words written with chalk. Good. At least Sam would have some enjoying to do.

 

Control blinked multiple times, staring the girl down until she sat, hands trembling and eyes gleaming with fear. Amateurs.

 

"Shaw." She heard and slowly turned towards Control. "Please, stand and read us out loud, what exactly is on the board."

 

Great. A show.

 

She got up nonetheless, wanting to get it over with, and walked determinedly to the desk. She picked up the board (ignored the girl that eyed her like she was nuts) and went to stand next to Control. She looked down and automatically recognized the sentences, from back then when her class had been forced to learn them. 

 

"Inobedience," she began, "violence, insubordination, dishonesty, indifference," she pauses when she reaches the end, "equal punishment."

 

So a lesson then. Control was trying to make her feel embarrassed - too bad ; Sam didn't get embarrassed. 

 

"Very well." Control stated, folding her hands in front of her gigantic belly like the Saint she was not. "And why are you being punished Ms.Shaw?"

 

Shaw thought about playing along, but then again, it would be fun to just not play at all. She didn't speak for minutes, and she could feel impatience radiating off of Control in waves. It got her an other smack on the back of her head.

 

Girls giggled.

 

"Answer the question."

 

Shaw bit her cheek and looked at the board. "Inobedience and violence."

 

"Exactly." Control marveled. "You hit a fellow classmate."

 

Sam stayed silent. Deciding it wasn't worth the saliva explaining to the woman next to her how Rousseau had insulted her, insulted her family, something she valued even more than food. Control wouldn't understand either way, so why waste calories? 

 

"Now since we've been here one too many times," the woman sighed, "I decided that maybe all of you would like to see how a this school does not tolerate this behavior."

 

Shaw was getting prepared for the worst. 

 

 

It came eventually. 

 

...

 

The bell rang, and Sameen was still being thrown tomatoes from from the middle of the yard, trapped inside this thing from middle century, (Control that bitch), laughed at from all young girls and not even her murderous glares could save her this time. If this was what shame felt like, she despised it.

 

Martine was chuckling at her from outside the mass, her black eye standing out but not enough for Shaw to feel satisfied. She saw Carter and Zoe and a bunch of other kids attempting to get through, but Control was having none of it. 

 

Sameen would go home stinking and painted in red juices and mash potatoes and her mother would have to clean all of the spots alone. That thought was the only thing that bothered her more than the incessant attacking and laughing and Control smiling. She didn't want her Mama to get tired. She didn't want her Mama to be disappointed. 

 

She didn't want to have to explain herself either.

 

And don't these kids have a home to go to anyway? School's over hello?

 

Her torture seemed inevitable as another cart of tomatoes rolled in. Control only smirked satiated. But minutes later, after Sameen had clenched her jaw and closed her eyes readying her face for the onslaught - it didn't come.

 

And nothing else could be heard but her own ragged breathing and her teeth grinding on each other, throughout the whole yard. There was silence, and Sam opened her eyes hesitantly, curious as to why there was a change of heart.

 

What she saw was not something she was expecting to see. 

 

There was a man, standing close to Control, short, with spiky hair, and clenched fists. He looked angry, his glasses running down his nose but Sam couldn't see his face from this far. She didn't recognize him either. 

 

What she did vaguely recognize however, as laughter had ceased and everyone seemed to hold their breaths, was a little tall figure, long legs and brown wavy hair, approaching, steps hurried but sure. It reminded Shaw of -

 

Of -

 

"Root?" She disbelievingly asked when the girl was close, close enough for her face to cover the blinding sun from her eyes as she kneeled in front of Sam, and yes indeed, those goggly wide eyes that she last saw in the woods, stared back at her with something akin to amusement and - concern? 

 

"Sameen?" She asked and there was a lilt to her voice, a tease but a question as well, and it snapped Shaw out of it because she'd never shared her name with the stranger - Root.

 

She grunted and channeled all her anger to this one person - because now that she thought of it, it was all her fault. If she hadn't gone to the woods, and hadn't invaded Shaw's kingdom, Sam wouldn't have had to capture her, wouldn't have cross the borders to Samaritan, Martine wouldn't have been mad, and Shaw wouldn't have punched her squarely. 

Therefore no suffering.

 

Just as she was about to start spitting scathing words at this - this little incompetent sneaky girl, Root leaned in, scarf in hand and started cleaning some tomatoe left overs from Sam's face. She felt her face burn and she tensed, because it was strange and she'd never felt like that before, not even when her mother used to wipe dirt out of her cheeks. For a moment she thought that maybe she could chew Root's fingers off as they abandon the scarf and wipe away some red from Shaw's chin but an inner voice, something close to instinct, screamed at her that somehow, things would get even weirder if she did that.

 

She opted to trust her gut and just clench her jaw even harder - if that was possible - her hands twitching from inside the holes on the wood restraining her. Maybe she could punch Root too, exterminate that stupid smile off of her inhumanely red lips. 

 

Was that normal? Did that girl eat cherries every day or what? 

 

Her thoughts ended abruptly as she felt her arms fall loose from the trap. And her neck felt sort of lighter too, and she felt like she could straighten her spin -

 

Root had released her, grabbing the two wooden planks and throwing them away. She started shaking off dust from her blue uniform - does that mean she goes to this school? - similar to the way she did with her sundress on Friday down Ol' Greer's slope. Her arms were long and pale, just like her legs and her hair cascaded down her shoulder like a brown waterfall as she tried to smooth down the wrinkles that had formed on the material.

 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam finally asked with venom in her voice after she was done staring. 

 

Root looked up at her with a smirk and a roll of eyes, playfully tilting her head to the side. "Well a thank you would suffice."

 

"I didn't need your help."

 

"Sure..." she said and turned around, walking towards the man, as the crowd started ungathering, Control shooing them away.

 

"Sameen." She threw over her shoulder when Sam was not paying attention, quickly reaching for the man and giggling innocently. 

 

It got on Shaw nerves, especially when she noticed that there was a new timbre at the pronunciation, like her name was the most rare sound in the girl's ears, and she spoke it with care.

 

She growled. "My name is Shaw!"

 

She shouted even as the girl was hastily exiting the gate, and Sameen had this inclination to follow. Instead, she focused on the man that walked closer to her - Harold Finch, oh no! - and cursed her luck - and that God damn girl - as she fully prepared herself for another, much longer lecture than Control's. 

 

"It was all her fault." She stated.

 

Damn her, she thought. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
